Charlotte was just wondering why it didn’t look like Aunt Clarissa when the face spoke.
‘Identifying user. GR000639… B. Charlotte Stone, living descendant of the immortals of the Golden Root. Severed. Retrieving file…’
‘Past, present, future. Always loads in that order,’ Davlin offered by way of explanation.
‘The guards are going to find us.’ Luned was beside herself now. ‘They must be able to trace the signal…’
‘Relax,’ Davlin said cheerily. ‘The Norn Interface is an independent system. The seers insisted on that.’
‘The Golden Root was severed in 1902 (human years),’ the face of Madame Cortes continued, ‘after the incarceration of the main patriarch Peter Aherne, brother of Clarissa Aherne and known in folktales as ‘the Echo’. Since then, the immortals of the Golden Root have lived in exile in Albion and have no representation at the Shriven Council.’
The face shuddered before continuing.
‘Present files: Assigned to Luned, Undine of Agrimony for ongoing investigation. Clarissa Aherne: DEFECTED. Further actions: Top secret file, access restricted. Ella Stone nee Aherne: UNKNOWN. Further actions: Possible hostage negotiations under search, ‘Nivasi’. Edessa Stone: UNRESPONSIVE. Further actions: To be determined. Charlotte Stone: ACTIVE, consider highly dangerous, possibly defective. Further actions: Constant Surveillance.’
‘What the heck does that mean “possibly defective”?! I thought I could trust you Luned…’
‘Shhhsh,’ Davlin interrupted her. ‘You don’t want to miss this bit.’ The image of Madame Cortes disappeared as the spore cloud swirled but her voice remained.
‘The flame-haired girl from Albion, a daughter of the severed root, is destined to be the saviour of Syluria, the Great Tree and her own line. Two from the same acorn, one to grow and the other to wither, one a saviour, one a shadow. Scanning Charlotte Stone… UNDETERMINED.’
‘You and me need to talk, Luned.’ Charlotte scowled at the Undine but before she had time to interrogate her, the comms room was flooded with the high-pitched squeal of alarms.
‘Well, we’ll have all the time in the world to talk when we end up in the chamber,’ Luned retorted as she followed Davlin to the Tap Room.
‘We are now in shut down,’ Davlin said. ‘There is only one way out now. You know what to do, Luned.’
‘Syluria it is,’ Luned replied as she took Charlotte by the hand and dragged her into the sap flow.
The Manush de Bar
The sun was setting over Syluria as Charlotte collapsed in an undignified heap at the foot of the Nymet hill. If she hadn’t been ethereal, she would have thrown up. It had been a rough ride through the sap flow and even though she had to discard her physical body to enter the Dreamtime, that part of the journey had been just as bad.
Luned had stayed only long enough to ensure Charlotte had made it through the Dreamtime before streaking back into the darkness. She had to move Charlotte’s body before the elfin guards found it and if she was gone too long she would end up facing some very awkward questions.
Charlotte’s head was still reeling from the revelations of the Norn Interface but she had to focus on the task in hand. Tar’sel appeared at her shoulder.
‘Here try this. It should take the edge off.’ Tar’sel wafted the smoke from a twist of herbs – the same as were in Anya’s potion the night of his first trip into the Dreamtime.
The twin moons of Sorcha and Kyrene were already high in the sky and the purple tinge of dusk was fading into an inky blue-black.
‘Have you figured out how we are going to get to the Vorla?’ Charlotte whispered as Tar’sel beckoned her under the cover of a large willow tree.
The Nymet glowed warmly on top of the sacred mound as the firelight from inside escaped through the gaps in the wickerwork. This, together with the full moons, provided them with more than enough light as they made their way around the base and away from the village.
‘Dad wasn’t willing to talk. The Vorla scare him and he couldn’t see how they would be able, or willing, to help.’ Tar’sel tightened the straps on the packs at his feet. ‘He says only the Fey can help us – and the Vorla are definitely not Fey.’
‘Well, I think I can safely say we can’t rely on the Fey Nation. Remember Dijin and the Seelie Court?’ Charlotte was keen to get moving, Luned had made it clear that time was running out. All they had now was Edessa’s plan. ‘What I actually meant though was, what are we going to use as transport?’
Tar’sel looked confused. ‘We walk.’
‘You have to be kidding, it’ll take us weeks to get there that way, I have a test tomorrow. I’m dead if I don’t go and I’m in enough trouble as it is!’
‘Relax,’ Tar’sel smiled. ‘The Verses all have their own song. Syluria’s is higher and quicker than Earth’s. So long as we don’t hang around, I figure we’ve got time to get you back before you’re missed.’ Tar’sel looked her up and down. ‘We need to get you a physical body though.’
‘Why? Does my being all floaty upset the melodies?’ Charlotte barked to hide her nerves.
Tar’sel shook his head. ‘I’m going to need some help carrying supplies.’
‘A physical body, eh?’ Charlotte had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this. ‘So how is that supposed to work?’
There was a rustle of leaves in the thicket. ‘Easy, we swap.’ Tar’sel’s sister stepped out of the shadows. ‘Mishto hom me dikava tute, I’m Anya. You can use my body.’
Charlotte recognised the greeting as the one Jairo had taught her. ‘Gestina,’ she responded politely though she was uneasy that they had obviously discussed this already, without her.
‘It’s quite common. Me and Anya used to do it all the time when we were younger,’ Tar’sel continued, seeing her discomfort. ‘I used to hate making arrow heads and Anya hated curing skins, so we would swap.’
The idea of taking over someone else’s body unnerved Charlotte but Anya insisted, and she talked her through the process, making it sound so simple. They had to sit with their foreheads touching, staring into each other’s eyes till they sensed the switch occurring, at which point Anya would transfer to Charlotte’s body in Brackenheath while Charlotte’s consciousness was absorbed into Anya’s body.
‘Before we do this, brother, I have something to tell you,’ said Anya, but Mor’seka appeared before she could finish.
‘I’ve got this,’ he grinned.
‘K’hul! Does the whole Barra know?’ Tar’sel hissed. ‘This was supposed to be a secret mission, you know Father would kill me if he knew what we were up to.’
‘Relax, and believe me, friend, you want to hear what I have to tell you…’ Mor’seka said, before adding ‘… and I resent the fact that you think I’ve broadcast this to all and sundry.’
‘So, go on then.’ The resignation was clear in Tar’sel’s voice.
‘Like this, it’ll take at least a month to get there.’ Mor’seka waved his hand to include all of them. ‘I don’t think you have a full understanding of how far you have to travel.’
‘Knock off the attitude, Mor’seka, and get to the point.’ Tar’sel scowled. He hated it when Mor’seka tried to belittle his ideas, just because he was ever-so-slightly older he seemed to think he could act like Tar’sel’s big brother.
‘Whoa there, chavi. I think someone’s…’
‘Did you just call me chavi? You’re only two months older and you’re calling me chavi?’
‘Boys! For Goddess’ sake, you are both acting like children.’ Anya didn’t need to shout to get her point across which was just as well. Even Charlotte could see why she had been chosen to become a Draoi priestess.
‘Now get on with it,’ Anya hissed at Mor’seka before turning to Charlotte in order to initiate the swap.
Mor’seka was clearly sulking but did as Anya told him. He explained about the various stone rings that where dotted across the land, at least one per Barra, and how they were used for transportat
ion. He then explained how they could tap into the Nymet circle to use this network.
‘But the Nymet is wood, it wouldn’t be compatible,’ Tar’sel argued.
‘Not with stone, no. But here’s the genius bit,’ Mor’seka replied, excited by his own brilliance. ‘Do you remember the weavers of the Morsea’a Forests?’
‘But that forest fell centuries ago and the Morsea’a weavers converted to stone. Their circle, if they have one, will be just as unusable.’
‘They do have one and it’s not as incompatible as you think. The markers above ground will be stone but the foundations…’
‘… Are still wood,’ Tar’sel finished.
‘They grow up so fast!’ Mor’seka chuckled and Tar’sel gave him an evil look. Neither of them dared to argue again in front of Anya, especially when she was working magic.
Before Tar’sel could take a playful swing at his annoying friend, Anya’s body lurched awkwardly to its feet and stumbled forward. Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect but this was the strangest sensation and she felt nauseous. Mor’seka looked at her with sympathy.
‘It’s going to be a tough night for you,’ he said. ‘We can patch into the wood/stone ring but it will be a rough ride. Still, it will save you weeks of travel.’
‘Let’s do it,’ Charlotte replied before Tar’sel could object.
Charlotte made slow progress up the Nymet hill and was getting frustrated that this body was not responding to her commands. It was like learning to walk as a child and she had to consciously will her new legs to bend at the knee and lift themselves one after the other but she would not let the others help her. She was exhausted by the time they got to the top.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon, the connection takes a little time to bond that’s all.’ Tar’sel smiled reassuringly.
‘Hush, you foghorn,’ Mor’seka hissed, ‘there are still people in there. We are going to need to act quickly.’
All three of them ducked into the long grass as a train of priestesses, distinctive in their green robes, dreadlocks and tattoos, left the temple grove and began to wind their way down the hill.
‘I think perhaps you should go first, Tar’sel,’ Mor’seka whispered. ‘If there is anyone else in there at least you can give a valid reason for being here.’ Mor’seka pointed at Tar’sel’s own marks and newly acquired dreadlock.
‘You have too much faith friend, I’ll still be asked some awkward questions.’
‘You’ve always been lucky, I have my fingers crossed for you.’ Mor’seka grinned and gave him a double thumbs-up.
Charlotte’s heart was in her mouth as Tar’sel ducked through the willow weave curtain into the Nymet grove. It felt like an age before he reappeared and waved them in. Mor’seka rushed through their instructions, which basically consisted of choose a tree and hang on tight, while constantly looking over his shoulder.
Charlotte watched as he tapped each grove tree, tracing strange symbols on each of them and chanting words she couldn’t hear. He worked quickly and as he finished the final one, Charlotte felt a force pulling at her stomach before the world started spinning. An eerie glow started to grow in the ground and grove trees. Charlotte just caught sight of Mor’seka dashing out of the Nymet temple before a flash, so violent she swore she could hear it, blinded her and she felt as if she was falling.
The wood in her hands soon became cold and it was a while before she got her bearings and realised she has clinging for dear life to a stone pillar.
‘Time to go,’ Tar’sel whispered in her ear and she cautiously opened her eyes. The world was still wobbly and she wasn’t sure if it was this body or their unusual transport but she stumbled a few paces before falling to the ground and vomiting.
‘Definitely time to go.’ Tar’sel winced and helped her to her feet before leading her out of the abandoned circle towards the river a short distance away. Tar’sel reached into his pack and removed a large sheet of what looked like bark and began folding and pinning it in place.
‘A balsa bark boat,’ he answered her quizzical looks. ‘It’s stronger than it looks; in you get.’ He loaded the packs. After grabbing a fallen branch from one of the few trees on the riverbank, he jumped in himself.
To begin with it was a pleasant journey, the river currents carrying them silently through pine woods then out to open plains. The eerie call of a skylark filled the air.
‘We also call it a Vorla eagle,’ Tar’sel told Charlotte, ‘because it sounds like the Vorla or… what is the word you use…? Ah yes, “banshee”.’
Charlotte felt a cold shiver jolt through her. ‘And these are the people we are going to for help?’
‘Don’t blame me, your sister sent us, remember. The Vorla are the keepers of great knowledge though, so I guess if they can’t help us no one can. But they are dangerous, they feel no emotion, no compassion, no empathy, no fear and they can drive men mad – so, nothing to worry about.’
No fear. Charlotte was caught up in her own thoughts as another memory stirred that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Tar’sel went back to steering their little boat of tree bark. In the distance the lights of Amrith, the main city of the Morsea’a weavers, shone and Charlotte noticed Tar’sel drop his head and sigh.
‘You have family there, don’t you?’
‘Not anymore,’ he replied without facing her. ‘All root connect-ions were untied by the elders once the Morsea’a weavers gave up the old ways. They are no longer considered Manush de Rukh.’
‘But the heart doesn’t forget,’ Charlotte whispered, half to herself.
‘Something like that.’ Tar’sel busied himself with the boat.
Charlotte didn’t know what to say or do. She wondered if a hug would be appropriate, but she was still ignorant of most of their customs, and she didn’t want him to think she was prying, so she left him to his thoughts.
The warm night breezes worked in their favour and the boat ploughed along with little effort. Charlotte sat back and enjoyed the scenery as it floated past. It was mostly wide open plains full of russet and blue grasses that shimmied in the wind punctuated by vast bodies of water, but ahead of them Charlotte could already see the Zolt foothills at the base of the Mountain of Mourne. They were tantalisingly close and it sent a thrill of excitement down her back, but Charlotte knew they were further away than they looked and there were still many miles to travel as yet.
Charlotte was distracted from their goal by a strange change in the landscape. The ground in the plains had taken on a sickly grey tinge, and the grasses had become dry and brittle. The greyness even seemed to seep into the water of the river.
‘It’s the Withering,’ Tar’sel said as he slowed the boat and cautiously steered it as far away from the grey as possible.
‘It’s where the darkness is leaking out of the Dreamtime,’ Tar’sel explained. ‘A number of adventurous explorers have tried to see what’s inside but no one ever comes out again. It is thought they are the points where two worlds have collided and imploded. It’s just speculation of course, no one really has any idea. All we really know is, they didn’t exist till recently.’
They were close enough now to see the swirling centre, like molten lead, with tiny electrical flashes sparking here and there. They were surprisingly mesmerising and the smell of ozone filled the air.
A thud brought her back to her senses. Tar’sel’s puzzled look alarmed her; this clearly wasn’t just noises of the river. A second thud shook the little boat and was soon followed by a dozen more. The water ahead of them was thrashing and foamy and a whirlpool was forming.
‘Nivasi! Nasty.’ Tar’sel sucked in his breath sharply. ‘I take it you can swim?’
Charlotte nodded.
‘Good, I’d take a deep breath if I were you and dive deep then swim like K’hul for the riverbank there, right?’ Tar’sel pointed to a stony beach a few hundred yards up river from them. It was the other side of the whirlpool.
‘We need to be on the right-hand side of the river,’ he said in response to the look of horror on Charlotte’s face, ‘and we need to avoid the grey, Shala?’
‘Hai, Shala,’ Charlotte replied automatically.
To their left, an orange fish tail, covered in tiny barnacles, flipped out of the water and crashed into the side of the boat, ripping the fragile bark and plunging them into the water.
‘Go!’ Tar’sel cried.
The river was wide and the strong currents pulled the remnants of their boat towards the whirlpool in front of them. Charlotte shuddered. An unnatural keening filled the water as venomous amber eyes peered at them from only metres away. Several more Nivasi hung in the water nearby, dark hair floating wildly around them. They grinned menacingly, gnashing pointed teeth which flashed in the water-dappled moonlight.
‘How are we supposed to out swim these?’ Charlotte signed, already shivering uncontrollably in the icy waters.
‘We have to try.’ Tar’sel responded, tugging at her arm as he dived. Charlotte followed his lead.
A blood-curdling scream spurred the creatures into a frenzy as they swarmed around them, their vicious intent clear, sharp talons poised to strike. Charlotte cried out, swallowing lungfuls of water, as one of them sliced through her calf, another piercing her shoulder. Is this how it is going to end? she thought, before wondering if in fact it was Anya who was dying. Would she wake up warm in bed at Rosemary Heights as soon as she passed out?
Charlotte’s wounds were beginning to tighten and stiffen, making it difficult to move and she began to drift away from the tight coil of water in front of her. Was there some sort of poison in those evil-looking talons? The thought drifted through her hazy mind and she no longer knew which way was up. She could feel herself being dragged into the grey.
A faint green glow bloomed in her vision, getting brighter and brighter, until it filled the water around her. Rainbow colours pulsed and swirled through the river and Charlotte could hear soft chanting. Perhaps this was the light that people talk about seeing in death. However, with the glow the water seemed to become lighter and saturated with oxygen. Her limbs were able to move without effort, all tightness gone and she was no longer falling. Charlotte soon felt the stone bed of the shallows under foot and managed to pull herself onto the little beach, shivering as soon as the cold night air hit her skin.
Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet Page 20